I didn't know I was important then.
All the things I would be
To so many different people.
All the things I have yet to be.
I was only awkward in pigtails,
pencilled thinly over life
and already afraid of growing to fat.
I didn't understand the finite nature of infinity,
that the bottomless pitcher of rainy days between each birthday proclaimation
pouring me closer to the dreamings of real life,
Would one day lift lightly,
inflated by greys hairs and burdensome cares
And I would long swiftly for those
endless
rainy
days.
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